


45 reasons why

by you_get_to_exhale_now_cyrus



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Confession, Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 Mount Rushmore or Less, a loooot of self deprecation, and original stuff, some canon points
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-26 00:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_get_to_exhale_now_cyrus/pseuds/you_get_to_exhale_now_cyrus
Summary: cyrus tries to think of all the possible reasons that tj hates him following the events of costume day





	45 reasons why

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heckinamanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckinamanda/gifts).



> inspired by this post: https://theobligatedklutz.tumblr.com/post/183642133426/cyrus-sits-down-one-day-to-write-down-all-the

_1\. I’m annoying_

That one was a given, Cyrus thought. He always asked one too many questions, laughed a little too loud, and complained a little too often for people’s likings. It only made sense that this was probably one of the main reasons that TJ probably hates him.

Hate. He doesn’t like that word; it’s so strong, it has so much power. Yet, it almost seems to fit the mood. After all, the costume was TJ’s idea, not his. TJ was the one who looked so excited to do the costume based on an inside joke. And yet, TJ was the one who bailed on it. TJ was the one who did a costume with a girl he, supposedly, barely even knew.

He sighed, putting down his pen and leaning back in his chair. Maybe this didn't just start right around costume day. Maybe it went further back, but how far back? A week? A month? Cyrus shook his head, breathing out forcefully. Might as well start from the very beginning, he thought to himself.

 

The whole thing started with that damn muffin. The muffin, he pointedly thought, that he couldn’t get for himself because he was too much of a coward to cut in line and get it for himself.

_2\. I’m weak_

_3\. I’m helpless_  
  
 _Just like Jonah said_ , he thought, but left that unwritten. He already knew that; he didn’t want it written down.  
  
That day with the stupid muffin seemed almost like a far away dream to him. He was almost certain that TJ. . .smiled at him? It was kind of fuzzy; if you’d asked him a week ago, he’d be able to tell you how many steps TJ took towards him before saying ‘he’s with me’. But now, he doubted that the whole exchange even happened. All he remembered was that he looked at TJ like this monster, like someone who could and would crush him underneath his sneaker. But. . .he didn’t. He was surprisingly friendly.

_4\. I jump to conclusions_

_5\. I get scared too easily_

_6\. I’m a bad judge of character_

For days after that, Cyrus had found himself lingering over their interaction, if you could even call it that. He’d absentmindedly draw a muffin on his biology notes. At lunch, he’d stare at his mashed potatoes so long that Buffy had to physically prod him to make him eat. And when his parents drove him home from school, the car ride was remarkably quiet.

He really thought that that would have been the first and last time that him and TJ interacted. He was _fairly_ certain that was the taller boy’s name; Buffy had mentioned her disgust for him several times before. But their conversation had only just begun.

A little while later, Cyrus had found himself drenched in sweat from head to toe because oh his goodness, he couldn’t stop himself from getting tongue-tied in front of the camera. And it certainly didn’t help that he was with his, now-ex, crush. That only made him want to do well _more_ , which of course led to a disastrous outcome. He’d ended up running towards the swings to try and calm down. He’d even sung that stupid song he made up in elementary school.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, TJ popped behind him, with a compliment for his song. And Cyrus. . .well, Cyrus just looked scared. He probably looked like a deer in the headlights from TJ’s perspective. And then of course, TJ had made some joke about what he sang on the slide. Probably in a pitiful attempt to make conversation

_7\. I’m pitiful_

Somehow he’d managed to convince TJ to sit and swing with him. _With him_. It felt almost natural, them sitting together on the swings. Well, not together per se, but they were on the same swing set. Separately.

_‘You don’t know me. I got stuff.’_

He’d never forgotten those words, because in that moment, he felt almost comfortable around TJ. Like he just wanted to spill everything and get everything off his chest.

_8\. I get too comfortable with people I barely know_

They’d barely even talked that day. All that Cyrus had learned was that, apparently, TJ had things that he needed to feel better about, which to Cyrus, sounded absolutely absurd. He was the captain of the basketball team, people were borderline terrified of him, and let’s be honest, he wasn’t ugly. Far from it, actually, save for the insane amount of hair gel he used to wear.

And when he gave him an underdog, he barely remembered feeling so light and so effortless all at once. It felt like he was on top of the world, and that nothing could touch him. And the smile on TJ’s face when he was squealing like mad. . .it was nice to see. Even then, Cyrus could tell he didn’t smile like that, or maybe even at all, much.

_9\. I’m scared of stupid things_

And then Buffy had shown up and TJ instantly put up his walls again and wanted to hurry off. And for some weird reason, Cyrus didn’t want him to leave. He wanted his new. . .friend? (if he could call him that) to make sure that he knew that Buffy was cool, and understanding when she wanted to be.

_10\. I want things that I can’t have_

_‘Thanks for reminding me about swinging. That helped.’_

For once that day, he felt useful, like he’d been successful in making someone just a little bit happier. He’d gone home that day feeling pretty good about himself. Even his parents seemed to notice his good mood, but when they asked him about it, he just shrugged it off, saying that he’d found a few dollars on his way in to school. He was fairly certain they didn’t believe him, but they didn’t pry anymore, simply letting them eat his dinner in peace.

_11\. I get happy at dumb things_

A few days after their encounter at the swings, TJ somehow managed to find Cyrus again in the hallway. He looked oddly stressed, and he didn’t have the same easygoing ‘shrug it off’ demeanor that he’d sported just a few days ago. He looked like he wanted to say something, Cyrus could tell by the way he’d carried himself. He hadn’t forgotten their conversation from that day.

_“Something on your mind?” Cyrus had asked, rocking back on his heels._

_TJ had just shrugged, tugging on his hoodie straps. “Just. . .stuff,” he’d said lamely, but Cyrus could see behind his indifferent demeanor._

_“You don’t have to tell me now, or ever,” Cyrus had assured him, and was ready to walk off when TJ started pulling something out of his back pocket._

_“Here,” he mumbled, handing Cyrus his phone, “put your number in and I’ll. . .tell you about it sometime, I guess,”_

_Cyrus had nearly dropped the boy’s phone from pure shock. TJ was asking for his number? Well, no. More like TJ didn’t want to talk right now and instead wanted a second method of communication._

_“O-Okay,” Cyrus had stammered out, putting his phone number in, all the while thinking about what he would write for his contact name. He wanted to make it something a little creative, but not something so stupid that it was embarrassing._

_‘Cyrus (Underdog)’ he typed out, before handing it back to TJ. He had glanced down at his phone, and Cyrus had sworn he saw the ghost of a smile._

_“Cool, I’ll text you,” he’d said, before running up to catch up with his basketball friends._

_He’d waited all weekend for TJ to text him, but he never had. He’d even sent him a text himself._

_[Cyrus: hey it’s cyrus! but you probably know that, anyways i’m here to listen if you ever want to talk :)]_

_He regretted it the moment he’d sent it._

_12\. I’m a dork_

_13\. I’m clingy_

When it had come time to invite people to his bar mitzvah, the last invitation was almost shaking in his hand. Why he was so nervous to hand it to TJ was beyond him, but looking back, a crush was definitely forming. Hindsight truly was a savior. He really, _really_ wanted TJ to come, so much that he probably sounded desperate when he asked.

_14\. I’m desperate_

_15\. I’m a geek_

Luckily for him, TJ had accepted; heck, he’d even smiled at him. And then, he launched into a conversation about Buffy. Something about needing her to do something for him. And there it was, he thought, the reason that TJ had even talked to him at all. He need a favor. What? A date? Her number? TJ had ended up being pretty vague about the whole ordeal.

_“Just use her two favorite words,” Cyrus had said confidently._

_“I’m sorry?”_

_He’d paled, eyes bugging out of his head. “No, she hates those words,”_

_“Then what?”_

_Cyrus had hesitated. On the one hand, he did want to keep talking to TJ. On the other hand, he didn’t want to say something he shouldn’t. But one look up to him, seeing him almost smiling, he nodding up the sidewalk._

_“Come with me. You might not like saying this, but Buffy will love hearing it.” The two of them had walked out towards the bus stop at the front of the school. After checking to see if the coast was clear, no Buffy in sight, Cyrus had stepped in front of TJ._

_“You’re right,” he’d said._

_TJ furrowed his brows in confusion. “About what?”_

_Cyrus shook his head. “No, those are her favorite words. ‘You’re right’. I don’t know what it is about them, but she just...seems to cave at whatever when you say them. It’s how I got her to sell me Tokyo,”_

_TJ looked at him, even more confused than before, but there was an air of fondness in his gaze._

_Cyrus waved him off. “Monopoly. Long story.”_

_TJ nodded curtly, upon hearing the bus beep. “Maybe you could tell me sometime,” he offered, shaking his phone, “you can use emojis and everything,” he’d joked, before waving and heading onto the bus._

_Cyrus couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off of his face no matter how hard he tried._

_Sure enough, when he got home that night, he sent TJ a long text explaining how he just needed Tokyo to complete his collection, but Buffy wouldn’t sell it to him. He didn’t really remember what had happened, other than the fact that he’d said ‘you’re right’ so many times it started to sound like a foreign language._

_And this time, TJ did send him a text back_

_[TJ 🏀: lol that’s funny. i’ll remember that. thanks for today]_

Cyrus almost smiled as he added new things to the list. Memories of his bar mitzvah were fond, and he wishes times could be as simple as they were back then. He hadn’t seen TJ that much, save for the time that he couldn’t open a damn bottle.

_“Hey, Underdog!” TJ had said above the music, approaching him._

_Cyrus had just groaned in response, his shoulders slumping, He set the bottle back down on the table and swiped at his hairline. “Hey, TJ,”_

_TJ had looked between Cyrus and the bottle. “Need some help?”_

_Cyrus shook his head. “No, I’m supposed to do this myself, you know. Be a man and all that jazz,” he chuckles, cringing inwardly._

_16\. I’m cringy_

_17\. I have no physical strength_

_TJ nodded, putting his hands in his pocket, before he’d stepped forward and grabbed the bottle. Cyrus had started to panic a little, but TJ assured him things would be fine. He’d started to open the bottle, just a little, and then had quickly handed it over to Cyrus to finish it off._

_“All yours, dude,” he whispered, discreetly shuffling back towards the dance floor. Cyrus had stood stunned for a few moments, before he came to his senses and opened the bottle the rest of the way. It made a satisfying ‘pop!’ and the foam spilled over the neck. All of his family and friends were clapping, and if he squinted, he could see TJ, clapping his hands and smiling._

Things seemed near perfect that day. He hadn’t seen TJ for the rest of the party, but he assumed that he was enjoying himself. At the end of the day, when he was all dressed up in his dino pajamas, he heard his phone ding.

_[TJ 🏀: hey that fortune teller at your party, is she for real?]_

_He had swore he was having some weird form of deja vu; what he said sounded just like what Buffy had said back at the party._

_[Cyrus: no, she’s fake, she just likes to pretend she can see the future. why?]_

_[TJ 🏀: oh, she just said some pretty freaky stuff, like she was for real]_

_[Cyrus: rest assured, she cannot see the future]_

_[TJ 🏀: thank god]_

_[Cyrus: i, however, can. and i see you and me tomorrow at the spoon for taters]_

_[TJ 🏀: can you now? i’d love to but i have practice, sorry, maybe another time]_

_[Cyrus: yeah totally!!]_

_Cyrus had really hoped those exclamation points could mask his disappointment._

_18\. I get disappointed easily_

_19\. I’m a burden_

Had he already written that? He didn’t know, and he frankly didn’t care. If he wrote it twice, maybe it was really true.

After his bar mitzvah, things seemed to be pretty at bay. Buffy was playing well on the basketball team. Life with Andi seemed less dramatic than usual, and everyone seemed to be getting alone pretty well. That was, until he went to one of the basketball games and found TJ glaring at the court, not dressed in his uniform. He’d went over to check on him, but TJ had just brushed him off.

_20\. I’m a bother_

_21\. I’m nosy_

_“Eating your feelings? I do that,” he’d tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but TJ’s face was a palette of annoyed and frustrated. The two of them had sat down at the table in the room adjacent to the court._

_“Think they’ll win without me?” TJ had asked, his mind seeming to be anywhere else but in this conversation. It was weird not seeing him on the court, Cyrus agreed._

_“I don’t even know who they’re playing,” he’d admitted with a shrug._

_“The Raptors,” TJ had sighed, “I should be in that game.”_

_“Why aren’t you?” Cyrus had asked. Way to be direct, kid._

_TJ grumbled. “‘Cause. . .I’m failing math. They won’t let me play basketball because I can’t do some stupid equations. How are those things even related?”_

_Cyrus had started putting pieces together, but he didn’t want to pry. He didn’t want to ruin the delicate friendship between him and TJ. “Maybe you should get a different tutor,” he’d suggested._

_TJ had just brushed him off. “What I need is a different. . .brain.”_

_Cyrus had frowned, his brows knitting into confusion. “What’s wrong with yours?”_

_For the first time that day, TJ looked almost hesitant. “It doesn’t work. There’s a malfunction.”_

_That was one way to put it, Cyrus had thought._

_“I might have this. . .math dyslexia,”_

_“Dyscalculia,” Cyrus had said, not missing a beat._

_“Buffy’s the one who figured it out. She’s been bugging me to talk to Coleman. Constantly on my back about it,” TJ had sounded exasperated._

_“It’s pretty common. Not worth replacing your brain over,” Cyrus had assured him, the beginnings of a smile starting to form._

_TJ rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s a-” he was cut off by a few people entering the room, and he clammed up immediately, waiting for them to leave. When he was certain they were out of earshot, he’d continued._

_“. . .learning disability. I don’t wanna go around announcing that,”_

_Cyrus had felt awful; TJ didn’t deserve to feel like this. “Dude, that’s an overused buzzword. There is nothing wrong with you.”_

_TJ seemed to almost stop frowning at that. Cyrus couldn’t back it up with evidence, he had just said it._

_“And, your teacher can’t fail you for having it.” Of course he couldn’t. He just regurgitated facts._

_22\. I’m not helpful_

_“Coleman can’t fail me,” TJ had repeated, the words tasting almost strange in his mouth._

_“You could be playing basketball. Right now.”_

_TJ had groaned, leaning back in his chair. “And Buffy’s been right all along,” he’d mumbled, almost chuckling to himself, “At least this time I’ll mean it when I tell her she’s right. That really is her favorite thing to hear.”_

_Cyrus had cringed internally. “I shouldn’t have told you about that. She’d kill me if she ever found out.”_

_TJ had scoffed at that, shaking his head. “Ah, don’t worry. She won’t find out,” he had paused for a moment, “and she may have been right, but you’re the one who really helped me.”_

_Cyrus hadn’t known what to say at that. He felt oddly proud of himself, and seeing TJ smile a little just made the whole moment better._

_“Cheese puff?” TJ had offered._

_Cyrus shrugged. “Sure.”_

That day had been a good one, Cyrus had concluded. TJ had found him helpful, which almost made him want to erase the previous thing he’d written. But, he figured, he’d end up rewriting it anyways later, so why change it now.

Besides, what had happened later with Buffy only made him wince. How could he have been so careless as to tell TJ his best friend’s weakness?

_23\. I’m a bad friend_

_24\. I’m not trustworthy_

_25\. I’m a backstabber_

_26\. I can’t keep a secret_

_27\. I’m a liar_

_‘He wants to be friends with me. Who knows why?’_

He still thought about that sometimes. Why _did_ TJ want to be friends with him? Not for his terrible humor, or for his nerdy jokes, that was for sure. TJ did seem to take pity on him after Buffy left.

_“Cyrus, hey!” TJ had called out, jogging up to Cyrus’ locker, only to find him staring into the void.  He had waved his hand in front of his face. “Earth to Cyrus?”_

_Cyrus had flinched, nearly hitting his head on his own locker. “Huh? Oh, hey TJ.”_

_“Something on your mind?”_

_Pity. Pity was all that his mind could chant at him, but somehow, he still ended up talking. “I miss Buffy,” he muttered, closing his eyes. It was only his first day back at school, and he was already miserable._

_TJ had slung his arm across his shoulder, tugging him down the hallway towards the cafeteria. “I know you do. But hey, she’s just a call or a text away right?”_

_Cyrus just shrugged, keeping his gaze down. “I guess so,”_

_“Do you wanna sit with me and my friends at lunch?” TJ had offered._

_Cyrus shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you though, really. I’ll see you around.”_

_28\. I push people away when they just want to help_

Cyrus seemed to be pretty good at pushing people away. No matter how much he’d isolated himself from people, especially when Buffy was away, they still managed to make an effort to sneak back into his life. Well, less _people_ and more _TJ_. He’d even apologized to a piece of metal in order to sit down with him and Andi. And then of course, in typical Cyrus fashion, he just let his emotions flow and texted him his list of things he couldn’t do.

_29\. I’m pathetic_

He’d even taken time out of his day to, first of all, drag him out of the drama between Andi and Jonah, and second of all, to teach him how to do a somersault. He didn’t forget how his heart fluttered after they chest bumped. It felt like it did around Jonah. . .well, _used_ to feel around Jonah.

Even when Buffy had said that his disappeared, he had lied slightly. At this point, he didn’t want to admit that his crush didn’t “disappear”, but it. . .moved, almost. It was like all his feelings transferred to TJ; the sweaty palms, the fluttering heart, and the indescribable desire to spend more time around him, preferably alone. Time spent alone with TJ was some of the best time of his life.

_“Okay, so go over this one more time?” TJ had sighed, swirling his straw in his milkshake._

_“So,” Cyrus started, clearing his throat, “I’ll find a way to get Buffy to the basketball courts, and then you show up, I’ll disappear, then you two can talk for a little, I’ll come back and then you guys will play some one on one,”_

_TJ had chuckled, leaning back in the booth. “Wow, you’ve really thought about this, huh?”_

_Cyrus was probably blushing now, and he tried to hide it by shrugging and sipping his milkshake. “Just a little bit,”_

_“Well, it’s a pretty good idea. You’re full of them.”_

_Cyrus was now for sure blushing. “Eh, I try.”_

_“You succeed.”_

_Why did he have to say these things? It only made Cyrus more and more and more flustered._

That day was one of his fondest memories with TJ. It was also probably when he realized how intense his crush really was. And when the day came for the basketball game, it was a little shaky, but it had worked out. Heck, TJ had even performed an apology rap for Buffy.

_‘I’m so confused.’_

So was Cyrus that day. He didn’t know why TJ had even agreed to go through all this effort just to apologize for Buffy. Maybe it’d be nice to befriend someone he liked, Cyrus thought. After all, that’s how it went for him and Jonah, but at least that crush was in the past.

_30\. I’m stupid_

After Buffy had decided to start her basketball team, she had enlisted in Cyrus, and Andi a little, to help put up posters. Andi made them, Cyrus had to hang them. TJ had even offered to help him do that.

_“Need some help down there?” TJ’s voice had floated down the hallway, a stupid grin on his face._

_Cyrus had jumped one last time to try and pin the poster up, but to no avail. “Is it that obvious?”_

_TJ had chuckled at that, plucking the poster from his hands. “Huh. ‘Girls Basketball Tryouts This Week’. You trying out for the team, Underdog?”_

_Cyrus huffed at that, crossing his arms. “No. I’m just on poster-hanging duty. Which I seem to be failing at.”_

_“Here, I’ll help you,” he’d offered, handing the poster back to Cyrus._

_Cyrus scowled, looking between the poster and TJ. “I told you that I couldn’t reach the-hey!”_

_And before Cyrus knew it his feet weren’t on the ground anymore. TJ had a firm grip on him, and Cyrus was just squirming._

_“I could do it for you but, teach a man to fish?” he had repeated his mantra from when they first met each other._

_“TJ, put me down!” Cyrus giggled, his legs kicking in the air._

_TJ eventually gave in, putting him down, smiling widely. “Fine, fine, I’ll help put them up. The normal way.”_

It had taken them way longer than expected to put up the posters, probably because they were just a chaotic duo, but Cyrus wouldn’t have had it any other way. It was way more fun than expected, even if it took a long time.

_31\. I waste people’s time_

TJ was always one to push him out of his comfort zone, literally and figuratively. The day they went dirt biking was probably the epitome of that fact. The day was supposed to be a great one, seeing as he finally was getting around to meeting TJ’s friends. But things turned sour once Reed had shown him the gun. And when he confronted TJ about it, he barely said anything. Worse, he didn’t leave either. He was so concerned with his safety, as well as TJ’s, but still managed to walk off without him.

_32\. I’m careless_

And then _worse_ , he thought, was when he went to talk to Metcalf and the police about the gun. He felt so panicked the whole day after that encounter that he couldn’t even eat lunch. And considering he wasn’t allowed to talk to TJ all day, thanks to his friends, it felt worse. Don’t get him wrong, he appreciated what Buffy and Andi did for him, but he really wanted to clear things up with TJ. When they talked it out on the swings, he had no idea why he said the things he did.

_“You can be a little annoying, you know that?” TJ had said, taking a step towards him._

_33\. I’m annoying_

_“Well, you can be oblivious,” Cyrus had countered weakly. He didn’t even know where the word oblivious came from. Oblivious to what? To the fact that sitting there with Reed was putting him in obvious danger? Or to the fact that Cyrus had an undeniable crush on him?_

_“Well you can be very judgy,” TJ had remarked, taking another step forward._

_34\. I’m judgy_

_“Well you can be intimidating,” Cyrus had replied, and was surprised his voice wasn’t wobbling._

_“You know what else you are?”_

_That sounded like a threat. TJ could fill it in with any word in the world. Nosy. Irritating. Not my friend. He had told himself to keep his composure._

_“What?” How he had managed to say that without his voice breaking was beyond him._

_“The only person I can talk to like this,” he had said softer. Cyrus thought he was going to faint; he said what? He couldn’t help but smile at that._

That day seemed like light years away now, so far that it was nothing but a mere memory. He almost wishes he was back on the swingset with TJ, just swinging mindlessly. Or maybe he wants to go back to playing ping-pong with him and Jonah after they’d resolved their issues. It had been a bit of a stressful day for the most part, but seeing Jonah and TJ make up made it all worth it. Although, when they were talking about ‘stuff’ they had to do with, Cyrus had chickened out and said something about flamingos. He barely remembered, but he knew it was a lie. They’d played a few more round until Jonah decided to head over to the Red Rooster with Andi, leaving him and TJ.

_“So, flamingos, huh?” TJ had chuckled, picking up the ping-pong balls that remained on the floor._

_Cyrus had just shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that his heart was hammering in his chest: a clear sign that he was lying. Couple that with feeling like he couldn’t swallow, and you had a recipe for disaster._

_“Yup,” he squeaked, putting the paddles on top of each other, “real and plastic,”_

_TJ had just hummed in response, leaning against the table. “So when we went to the zoo that time and you were spitting out facts about why flamingos are pink, while you pointed at them. . .your fear just happened to disappear then?”_

_Cyrus gulped, trailing his finger around the rim of the paddles. “That. . .that’s the day it started?” he’s said, but it sounded like a question._

_TJ’s expression had softened, and he’d come up to Cyrus, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Stuff?”_

_Cyrus nodded weakly in response. “Yeah, stuff,”_

_“Swings?” TJ had offered._

_Cyrus shook his head, nodding over to the stairs. “Stairs,” he’d mumbled, going and taking a seat on the second to the last stair. TJ had sat down beside him, and he didn’t push him to talk. He knew Cyrus would talk when he was good and ready._

_“Look,” he started, “this. . .this is something that I think about a lot, you know? It’s not. . .something I’m ashamed of, I just don’t tell people that I don’t trust,” he admitted._

_“Unless you killed someone I swear I’ll keep whatever you tell me a secret,” TJ had promised, crossing his heart, “and even then, I’d help you hide the body.”_

_Cyrus breathed out a laugh at that. “No, it’s not that it’s. . .I don’t like girls,” he said lamely, waving his hands in the air a little, “I mean, I-I like guys. Like, in a romantic way,”_

_TJ had remained quiet for a moment, waiting to see if Cyrus had anything else to say, but when he didn’t he just nudged him lightly. “I’m glad you told me. It was brave,” he paused, looking up to face him, “you’re brave, Cyrus. Braver than you give yourself credit for,”_

_Cyrus had smiled softly, breathing out and feeling like the oxygen was actually getting to his lungs. “So. . .we’re still cool? You and me?”_

_TJ had scoffed, nudging him once more. “Of course we are! It’ll take a lot more than this for things to be not cool between us.”_

He kept thinking about that day; what if it wasn’t the best time to come out to TJ? What if he actually did think it was weird and was just trying to keep the situation as light as possible? All these what ifs, Cyrus concluded, could be boiled down.

_35\. I’m gay_

He sighed, staring at that statement for a while. It was true, but the idea that TJ could hate him for something he couldn’t control. . .it hurt a lot. Almost too much, but he had to write down _every_ possibility, _every_ possible thing.

_36\. I’m weird_

That one was a little more general, he supposed. Weird could cover a lot of things, not just being who he was, but all his nerdy hyperfixations, the way he acted around people, and his choice to never really go out with friends to parties. Too many reasons to list, so it was all boiled down to one word.

One word. That seemed to be all TJ could say after his dance recital that one weekend.

_He’d finished the routine and was in the locker room wrapping up and putting his things into his duffel bag when they door swung open. TJ was walking his way, a hand behind his back._

_“Wow,” he’d said, a gentle smile on his face._

_Cyrus waited for him to say more, even along the lines of how ridiculous he’d looked on stage, flopping around like boiled pasta, but he didn’t say anything else._

_“Wow? That’s it?”_

_“Wow, wow,” he repeated, pulling out a small dandelion from behind his back and handing it to Cyrus with a sheepish smile on his face, “. . .wow,”_

_Cyrus had accepted the flower graciously, and TJ had said something about catching up with his sister before he left for practice._

_37\. I’m a bad dancer_

TJ somehow knew that dandelions were Cyrus’ favorite, probably from the numerous times he’d said that. He always knew just what to bring to every event, even to his Bubbe Rose’ shiva. How did he know to bring challah bread?

_“Hey, Cyrus,” TJ had caught him alone, after the others had left and his family was cleaning dishes up and packing away food._

_“TJ, hi,” he’d returned with a small smile, stacking one plate on top of another, “you know we’re wrapping up and all, you can go home,”_

_“I know,” he’d said, putting his hands in his pockets, “I just wanted to say that. . .I’m sorry for your loss. I know that she was really important to you, and I don’t know how much it’s going to mean coming from me, but. . .she cares about you a lot. We all do,” he’d gestured vaguely to the people around the room._

_Cyrus had felt like crying right then and there, but he didn’t, somehow. He just smiled wider than before. “That does mean a lot, thank you, really. I know she does, I just. . .I miss her a lot already,”_

_“I know, and. . .if you ever want to talk about anything, tell me stories about her, or you just want me to distract you from this with a basketball story, I’m there.”_

_“Thank you, TJ. That means a lot.”_

How had things managed to go from almost perfect, to the disastrous state that they were in now? He wanted to say that he didn’t understand, but he did. He knew that it had to do with himself, because that always seemed to be the problem. _He_ always seemed to be the problem. The things he wrote just started to spill out of him.

_38\. I’m not worthy_

_39\. I’m always the problem_

_40\. I’m there when I’m not wanted_

_41\. I’m a second-best person_

_42\. I’m not attractive_

_43\. I isolate myself from people_

_44\. I’m a disaster_

_45\. I’m annoying_

He stopped writing for a second; the last words he’d written looked familiar. He scanned over the list and found that he’d written ‘I’m annoying’ three times. Sighing, he set the pen down and closed his eyes. Annoying. He’d written it so many times, that was probably the main reason, he deducted. With a shaky hand, he folded up the paper and shoved it into a backpack pocket of his. He didn’t feel particularly upset, he just felt numb, and a little tired. He managed to trudge down the stairs, where his mom was sitting and cutting up some vegetables for tonight’s dinner.

“Cyrus, sweetie, how are you feeling?” she asked sweetly, wiping her hands on the towel.

He just shrugged, unable to maintain eye contact for longer than a second. “Not. . .great. Is it okay if I stay home from school tomorrow?”

She softened at that, coming over to him and giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “I know you’re upset, but avoiding-”

“-just one day, please mom. I swear I’ll go back the day after. I promise. I just need tomorrow,” he pleaded, looking up at her, eyes filled with a layer of unshed tears.

She looked over his facial features for a few seconds before her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded weakly. “Okay, you have tomorrow, okay? Do whatever you need to do and if you want to be alone, that’s fine. If you need someone to talk to-”

“-I can call another therapist,” Cyrus half-joked, offering a tiny smile, “thanks, mom. I’ll be in my room for a little while. Think I’ll just take a nap.”

She nodded, watching him worriedly as he walked up the stairs and quietly shut the door to his room with a gentle click. He collapsed onto his bed, and he lied there forever until he felt like he couldn’t breathe through his nose. When did he start crying? Cyrus didn’t even know the answer to that simple question, and he was too weary to think about it. He pulled the covers over his head, closed his eyes, and waited for all the thoughts swirling around his head to settle down, before he finally fell asleep.

* * *

The next time Cyrus woke up, it was pretty dark outside, and he squinted at his alarm clock. It was close to eleven thirty, and he just sighed, grabbing his phone off of his stand and opened it to check through his notifications.. A few texts from Andi and Buffy in their group chat, one from Amber about dance, and none from TJ.

**[buffy: hey cy are you okay?]**

**[andi: yeah, we’re worried. but we’ll talk to you tomorrow]**

**[cyrus: i’m not going tomorrow, i don’t feel well]**

**[andi: are you okay? do you need soup or something?]**

**[buffy: yeah do you need us to come over?]**

**[cyrus: no that’s fine, it’s not that bad, but i did manage to convince my mom to let me stay home]**

**[buffy: the talented actor mr cyrus goodman]**

**[cyrus: i’m not lying, it’s the truth, it’s just not the worst pain i could be in]**

**[andi: well if you need anything, just text us]**

**[cyrus: i will, i love you guys]**

**[buffy: we love you too!]**

**[andi: <3]**

Cyrus felt drained just from that short conversation, and he put his phone aside, staring up at the ceiling. It irked him that TJ hadn’t sent him a text, especially after what had happened. If he wanted to apologize, which maybe he didn’t, a text would have been a start, because on Costume Day, there was nothing more than a few ‘I’m sorrys’ and ‘I should have called’. It wasn’t enough, not in the slightest, but as the days went on, desperation started to seep in, and Cyrus tried to convince himself that it was enough of an apology for him to just forget all of this happened. But no matter how many times he said that to himself in the mirror, he never could actually, genuinely believe himself. After a little more thinking about the matter, he pulled the covers back over his head, and fell asleep again.

* * *

“C’mon, c’mon,” TJ muttered under his breath, scanning through the hallway to try and find a certain brown-eyed boy walking through the hallways. But the more time that passed, the more his hope drained, and he retreated to his locker. Thankfully, he saw Buffy and Andi walking together, and nearly pushed people over to talk to them.

“Have you guys seen Cyrus today?” He asked, nearly out of breath, and looking mildly disheveled.

The two girls exchanged looks, not really wanting to talk to TJ at the moment, but they just gave him cold gazes. “He’s sick,” Buffy said simply.

“Wait, what? It’s, like, basically summer,” TJ sputtered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Andi shrugged. “All I know is that he said he felt too tired and too weak to come to school today. Should be back tomorrow,” she said curtly, pivoting on her foot and heading to her next class, Buffy following close behind.

TJ just stood in the middle of the hallway, dumbfounded. Cyrus wasn’t in school today, and he couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault. Tired and weak, they’d said. That didn’t sound like a typical cold, and he tried not to jump to the worst possible conclusion, but his mind didn’t allow him to do that. Cyrus was home because he wanted to avoid him. He couldn’t come to school because of TJ.

* * *

The whole day, TJ had been distracted. He couldn’t shake this vague nausea, because it was his fault. It was always his fault, it seemed. Everything was. He couldn’t concentrate in school, he missed almost all of his shots in basketball practice, and he didn’t get any of his homework done. All he did was stare at the words on the page and let them turn to mush as he shut the book angrily, rubbing his eyes harshly. He turned off the lamp and just scrolled through his phone. He wanted to send Cyrus a text, but he was too afraid. Too much of a coward. He’d typed out so many messages in his notes, but never sent any of them.

Overwhelmed by emotions, he shut his phone off and tried to sleep. It was a fitful attempt to sleep, and he was tossing and turning all night long, it felt like. He was sure that he had fallen asleep at some point, because after what felt like a longer blink, his alarm went off, and he just knocked it over to the ground with a groan.

* * *

Cyrus wished that he felt better after a day of just sleeping and watching YouTube videos, but he didn’t. He still felt just as drained and upset, if not moreso. When his mom served him breakfast, he told her that he wasn’t hungry, but that he was alright.

Having not done his homework due yesterday, he just circled random answers on the worksheets, and shoved papers into his backpack with a weak sense of urgency. He didn’t know how he was going to make it through the day without Andi and Buffy asking him a ton of questions. Don’t get him wrong, he loved them to death, but today was a day where he really couldn’t deal with talking to people, even them.

“Have a good day at school, Cyrus,” his mom called after him as he opened the door.

“I’ll try,” he mumbled, heading on his way. Sometimes TJ would wait for him in the morning, running from his hand and then the two of them would make their way to school, nearly hand in hand. The space around him felt almost too big as he walked, and he felt so small.

* * *

The bell was too loud, there were too many students, and Cyrus felt like a stranger in the school, only having been gone for a day, though. He almost forgot his locker combination, because his brain only wanted to focus on how weak his knees felt.

“Cyrus!”

All his thoughts came to a screeching halt at that sound. He knew damn well who it was, but all his brain seemed to chant was ‘danger, danger, pain, pain, pain, sadness’. He didn’t turn around, he didn’t even zip up his bag all the way, he just ran, who knows to what class. If his gym teacher could see him now, he would be beyond proud. Fortunately for him, he was running in the right direction, and ended up in his math class, nearly out of breath. He picked a seat near the back and tried to make sure that his teacher wouldn’t call on him. Unzipping his bag, he pulled out his notebook from his big pocket, and then a pencil from his small one.

 _Huh_ , he thought, zipping up the smaller pocket, _it was kind of open_. He tried not to linger on that for too long, as his teacher was about to start another lesson.

* * *

TJ could only watch him run off as he stood there. He felt his heart sinking deeper and deeper into his stomach, and was about to turn and walk off a small piece of paper fluttered near the corner of the pod of lockers. Moving with utmost casualty, he walked over and picked it up before walking to his next class. While TJ usually loved history, the piece of paper burning in his pocket demanded attention. He took his usual seat near the back of the classroom, and as his teacher started talking about the Civil War, he quietly pulled out the paper and smoothed it out under his desk.

He was a little confused at first; it was a list of insults someone had written about themselves. A quick glance over revealed that they had written ‘I’m annoying’ three times before they stopped. He squinted at the writing, and more he looked at it, the more worried he got. It looked an awful lot like Cyrus’ handwriting. His y’s were always curled at the bottom just so, his a’s were never fully closed, and the way he drew his 2’s were just like the ones on the page.

TJ felt his whole chest seize up. If Cyrus really did write this, which was becoming a much more real possibility with each passing moment, he couldn’t help but feel like this was his fault. Did he really make Cyrus feel like this? Like he was basically worth nothing? Putting aside his worries, he ignored whatever his history teacher was saying, and pulled out another sheet of paper, keeping Cyrus’ in his lap for reference. At least it looked like he was taking notes, since his teacher seemed to pay him no mind. And when the bell rang, he shoved both pieces of paper into his pocket and bolted out the door, looking for a certain boy.

* * *

Last period didn’t end fast enough, so when the bell finally did ring, Cyrus was the most excited that he’d been all day. He still had homework he needed to catch up on, along with today’s work, but all he wanted to do when he got home was to sleep more. He was almost out the door and ready to walk home, when he felt an urgent tapping on his shoulder. Turning around, he drew in a sharp breath. TJ.

“Hey,” TJ mumbled, tapping his fingers nervously against his jeans.

“What do you want, TJ?” Cyrus said. And it didn’t come out mean, or cruel, or cold. It was just tired, like he was on his way to something.

“This is only going to take a few minutes, please,” he practically begged, the urgency in his tone only growing. Being too tired to resist, Cyrus just shrugged, and TJ, wasting no more time, grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards an empty classroom, shutting the door behind him.

“Hurry up, I have things to do,” Cyrus mumbled, taking a seat on the top of a desk.

TJ nodded, and shakily pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. He felt like he was going to be sick, but he quickly handed it to Cyrus. When the other boy saw the paper, he immediately folded it back up, holding it close to his chest.

“Wh-where did you _find_ this?” Cyrus squeaked, his voice on the edge of cracking.

“It was on the floor by some of the lockers,” he said softly, taking one of the chairs from under a desk and sitting in it, “when?”

Cyrus glanced up from his hands. “When what?”

“When did you write it?”

He toyed with the idea of lying to him. How would he know? But after a few moments of thought, he felt like there was nothing left to lose.

“The other day,” he admitted softly.

“Do you _actually_ believe all the things you wrote? Cyrus, those are all lies,” TJ said firmly, scooting a little bit closer.

Cyrus shook his head, willing himself not to start crying, not here, and certainly not now. “Of course they’re true,” he grumbled, “why would you hate me if they’re not?”

TJ froze; if the rest of Cyrus’ words were a slap to the face, this was a stab right through his heart. He literally could not speak for several moments after he’d said that.

“I. . .you. . .you think I _hate_ you?” He finally managed to say, his tongue feeling oddly dry.

Cyrus just shrugged again. “I mean, you bailed that day,” he said under his breath, kicking his legs underneath the desk.

TJ swore that if he wasn’t sitting down he would have fainted. “I. . .I mean, I’m really sorry for doing that, it was a crap move on my part, and there’s a sort of reason why I did but. . .I could never hate you, Cyrus, never.”

When Cyrus didn’t say anything, TJ pulled out the other piece of paper from his pocket, smoothing it out in front of him. “I swear this won’t take long, I’m just asking you to hear me out,” he looked up at Cyrus, who just motioned for him to hurry up.

TJ cleared his throat, tightly holding the piece of paper in his hand. “You’re not annoying, not at all,” he started, which barely garnered Cyrus’ attention.

“You are strong,” he continued.

“What the heck is going on?”

TJ put a hand up. “Just listen. You’re not helpless, if anything you’re an independent person. You don’t jump to conclusions too fast, if anything, you’re good at reading people from a first glance,”

Cyrus just furrowed his brows, listening to TJ talk. He glanced down at his list in his own hand, and it took him a few moments to realize that TJ was trying to counteract all the things that he’d written on his own list.

“But I do get scared too easily,” Cyrus mumbled, tracing his writing on the paper.

“That’s not a reason for anyone to hate you, Cyrus,” TJ assured him, “and. . .you’re not a bad judge of character, you’re actually pretty good at it. Great, even.”

“Pitiful,” Cyrus countered, crossing his arms in defense.

“Lies,” TJ cut him off before he could say more, “you’re not pitiful. And getting too comfortable with people you barely know? More like you can make friends really easily.”

“Yes, but,” Cyrus squints down at his own list, “I’m scared of stupid things.”

TJ shook his head. “No, you’re rational. You have rational fears,” he says, looking at the next thing, “and ‘wanting things that you can’t have’? You have goals and dreams that you want to achieve. I have _no_ idea how you thought that anyone could hate you because of that. Getting happy at dumb things? Seeing you smile is one of the best part of my days, and I don’t even care what you smile about. It really doesn’t matter.”

If Cyrus didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he and TJ were back into their normal routine. He just looked at his list, and mumbled “dork.”

TJ’s face grew harder by the moment, and he gripped the side of the chair with his free hand to try and keep his emotions at bay. “You are _not_ a dork, Cyrus. And, for that matter, you’re not clingy, you’re not desperate, or a geek, or cringy. Not in the slightest.”

Cyrus sighed. “Look TJ, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but you don’t need to pity me like this.”

His eyes widened, and for a second, nothing came out of his mouth except for a squeak. “You think this is pity? This isn’t pity, I’m just telling you the truth about yourself, because your mind seems to only think you’re the worst. Which you’re not, you’re my favorite person.”

TJ took a deep breath before continuing. “Physical strength? What’s that got to do with someone hating you? You don’t get disappointed easily, I know that for a fact, and,” he pauses, hesitantly reaching up and placing a hand on Cyrus’ shoulder, “you are _not_ a burden. Please don’t say that about yourself.”

“But,” he pauses, looking down at his paper, “I am a bother, and nosy.”

“You’re not, not at all. And also, you are _extremely_ helpful, Cyrus. You haven’t helped just me, but so many people. You’re a great friend, and all this nonsense of not being trustworthy or anything like that? It’s a complete lie.”

“Even if I do try to help people, when they try and help me, I push them away,” Cyrus said, glancing at TJ’s hand, which was still on his shoulder. He didn’t do anything to push him off, because honestly, the contact felt nice after a period of the cold shoulder.

“And people should hate you for that? It’s a coping mechanism, you should know that better than anyone,” TJ informed him, “and you are one of the smartest people I know, Cyrus. You’re not stupid, or pathetic, where did you even get that idea?”

“But I _do_ waste people’s time,” he countered weakly, looking down at his lap.

TJ was so upset that Cyrus actually believed the things that he’d written about him, that it just made him want to crumple right then and there. “You don’t. You care so much about people, and you are always there when they need it. And you have annoying on here again, but that’s not true.”

Cyrus glances up at him when he says that. “But you said that I was.”

TJ raised his brows. “I’d never say that. When did I say that?”

“That day at the swings, after the whole Reed thing. You said that I was annoying. And judgy for that matter,” he muttered.

TJ sighed, bowing his head. “It. . .look, I’m sorry for saying that, but in the heat of the moment, I was upset because. . .I thought I was going to lose you. And I couldn’t bear that.”

The two of them were quiet for a little while, the only sound being the ticking clock up on the wall. Finally, TJ looked at the next things on the list, and felt like he was going to cry.

“Cyrus, look at me,” he said firmly, meeting the other boy’s gaze, “I will never, and have never, hated you because of who you are. You being gay is just part of who you are, and is not a reason for me, or anyone else for that matter, to hate you,” he pauses for a moment, “especially me. It’d be pretty hypocritical.”

Cyrus almost smiles at that. Almost. He instead just seems to relax, a breath passing through his lips. “I’m still weird though.”

TJ just shrugged. “Weird is good though. Why would anyone want to be normal?”

Cyrus gave a weak smile at that, feeling a little lighter with each of TJ’s words. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m a bad dancer.”

TJ crossed his arms. “I’ve seen you in the studio, Cyrus. You’re not a bad dancer. You’re always smiling, and you get this little smirk on your face when you’re concentrating really hard. It’s cute.”

Cyrus ducked his head at that, and tried to tell his mind that he was still supposed to be mad at TJ, not fall for all his compliments. Before he could even say anything else, TJ beat him to it.

“You are worthy of everything, okay? You deserve the world. If anyone’s a problem, it’s me, not you. And you are certainly not a second best person. You’re my first choice, always have been. The fact that you isolate people is, again, a coping mechanism for when you’re upset. You’re not a disaster, and never have been. And I hope this time you believe me when I say you’re not annoying.”

Cyrus nodded weakly; it felt really nice to hear someone tell him that he was their first choice. It was like he was wanted.

“And. . .don’t say you’re not attractive. You’re. . .” he hesitates a little, barely able to look him in the eye, “you’re beautiful, Cy, okay? All of you. Your smile, your laugh, your personality especially.”

Cyrus opened his mouth to say something, but again, TJ beat him to it.

“Kira was going to out me if I didn’t do the costume with her. I’m sorry that I bailed and I’m sorry that I didn’t let you know, I was just so scared that she was going to tell people and I didn’t-”

“-TJ, slow down,” Cyrus cut him off, reaching out for his hand and giving it a soft squeeze, “I forgive you, okay? And. . .thank you for this. I feel a lot better now. And for the record,” he laughs a little, “I think you’re pretty handsome yourself.”

Now it was TJ’s turn to try and hide his blush. He looked down at their hands, and couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks,” he mumbled bashfully, “I try.”

Cyrus smiled, hopping off of his desk and standing. “I’ve missed talking to you. What do you say we go get some ice cream and catch up?”

TJ stood up with him. “I’d love that.”

And after two rounds of ice cream and way more laughing and talking, they fell back into their normal rhythm, with a little more hand holding and hugging. But after today, their relationship was all the more stronger. When he went home that day, Cyrus through his list in the garbage, and pinned up TJ’s list to the board in his room. Even when he was having a bad day, he could always look at that list and smile.

**Author's Note:**

> also happy late birthday amanda!! i hope you liked this!


End file.
